Daughter of Men
by Jocelyn Ralph
Summary: The story of the battle of the Haladin against the Orcs, and their rescue by Caranthir. A little Caranthir/Haleth romance.
1. Chapter 1

The scout rushed into the hall, demanding to know where the master of Thargelion was. All arms pointed in the direction of the gardens. The scout nodded, and shot off again, to the gardens.

The sound of boots faded as the scout left the garden, his news delivered. Caranthir made his way to his rooms. The Haladin were under attack by Orc raiders in the southern woods. He cared nothing for the Edain, but the presence of warring Orcs on his southern border infuriated him. He called a meeting of the lords of his house, determined to exterminate the marauding Orcs.

"Are we all agreed, then?" His right hand, Faelon, asked. All nodded their heads, and some even spoke their ascent. Caranthir was quiet, brooding away in his chair. He shot up, spewing orders to muster his people for battle.

"We ride before the week is out."

Caranthir halted his army on a ridge overlooking the battle. They would only stop long enough for his heralds to unfurl his banners and sound the trumpets. The banners flapped in the growing wind, and Caranthir raised his hand in signal. The trumpets rang loud. The army watched as both Edain and Orcs froze in place to glance up at the approaching Elves. Caranthir laughed to see fear upon the faces of the Orcs.

As his army followed him to the battle, he looked in horror numerous bodies of men, and even some women and children, scattered across the field, broken and defiled. Quickly, his anger grew.

Suddenly he was there, fighting his way through to the stockade the Edain had built. _Who __i__s leading these people?_ he wondered. _He must be great indeed._ Hours passed, and he found that he had weaved his way through, and finally reached the walls of the stockade.

Suddenly, he heard a voice issuing commands. It seemed strange, for the voice was higher than a man's voice ought to be. He looked about, and saw where the voice was coming from: a woman clad in mail. She was mounted upon a great horse, and had a sword in hand. Her dark hair lashed as her head sharply turned his way. From the little he knew of the Edain, he wondered at a woman leading in a battle. It wasn't uncommon among Elves for women to fight among men, but among the Edain he knew it was.

He nodded in her direction, and turned back to the battle.

In a few hours' time, the armies of Caranthir and the Edain had driven the remaining Orcs to the river. They pressed one final time, forcing the remaining Orcs into the raging waters. The battle was over.

Caranthir heaved a sigh of satisfaction and looked around the battlefield. He didn't have to go far to find what he was looking for. She was alone, but for 

a young boy beside her horse. The boy reached up and handed her a ladle of water, which she took gratefully. She finished, and as she handed the ladle back to the boy, she noticed Caranthir's approach.

"Thank you, Haldan," she said, dismissing him.

The boy nodded and disappeared into the crowd. Caranthir walked over to the woman and helped her down from her tall horse. She was small, but sturdy. He saw in her midnight blue eyes a sadness that moved him. Her young face was weary and blood, sweat and tear stained. He found himself shaking her outstretched hand.

"Haleth," she said, her voice low and husky, "daughter of Haldad, of the Haladin."

"Caranthir, son of Fëanor, of the Noldor."

"Ah, a son of Fëanor. Yes, I know of you." She smiled, though there was no feeling in it. "Now, my lord, I'm weary, for I've had little rest in the last fortnight. If you'll excuse me, I'll retire to my father's tent." She turned to leave, but he gently grasped her arm to halt her.

"By your leave, lady, when all the dead have been buried and the battlefield burned, we shall remove to Thargelion, where my healers are waiting. In the meantime, the seriously wounded will be moved there at this moment, if you desire it?"

She nodded her head, stunned. "Thank you," was all she could reply. His brow furrowed in concern, for her face had paled. She wavered and half sank, half fell to her knees. Caranthir reached over and helped her to her feet, but she collapsed and lost consciousness. He mounted his horse, hoisting her up in front of him, and ordered his men to help the rest, and to lead those bearing wounded back to Thargelion.


	2. Chapter 2

Haleth woke up in a fine linen bed, her dark head resting on a soft down pillow. She sat up, and found most of her wounds were completely healed. There was a set of clothing on a table beside her bed, and she put them on. They were magnificently comfortable: the workmanship of Elven weavers. Caranthir had made sure that all her people were well taken care of, and made sure that she herself had been cared for by his best healers. He watched her emerge from the hallway, greeted by the embraces and handshakes of her people, those who had survived and been fully healed.

A servant showed her to the feasting table where she could eat to her fill. She piled food upon her platter and wondered around the room, participating in short conversations. From their interaction, Caranthir perceived that her people would need her strength in the times to come. He stood now in a dark corner of the room, quietly observing the feast. The surrounding merry-making did not amuse him, so he stood there, observing. He was suddenly aware of someone at his side.

"My lord," her low voice said softly. She made a small curtsy, her eyes shyly darting this way and that.

"Lady," he relied, and reached out with his hand and tilted her face up, forcing her to do what she wished but somehow couldn't.

"Thank you," she said. He raised an eyebrow in query. "For the dress. I've never felt anything so soft to touch, and yet strong and flexible." She played with the fabric, as if demonstrating. He took a step closer to her.

"You are welcome, lady. I pray you are well?"

"Yes," she paused. "But for this scar," she gestured to a half healed slash in her cheek. "It is still quite sore, and itchy." Her dark eyes followed his hand as he reached the short distance to her small face. She flinched as his fingers came near the scar.

The surprise on her face showed that she felt nothing as the tips gently brushed the wound. He brought his hand around to the other side of her face, gently drawing his knuckles over her smooth cheek. She took a step toward him, closing the small space between them. His mouth was on hers, his hands in hair, on her shoulders, finally around her waist. Her hands held his arms, pulling him closer to her.

Suddenly someone walked within close proximity to their shadowed corner. They separated, realizing their rashness. They moved into a more populated area in the room. The sat beside each other in silence for a long while. Caranthir spoke to her, his words coming out in a whisper.

"Lady," he began.

"Haleth," she corrected with a wistful half-smile.

Caranthir amended: "Haleth. I must ask you something."

"Of course,"

"What will you do now?"

"Now?" she asked, puzzled.

"After so much loss?"

"Oh." She closed her eyes and looked away, her eyes brimming. For a while she didn't say anything. Caranthir waited patiently. Haleth turned her eyes back on him. "I do not know," she said softly.

"I will say this to you, then." He paused, shifting in his seat to regard her more easily. "If you will remove and dwell further north, you shall have the friendship and protection of the Eldar, and free lands of your own," he offered. Haleth stared at him, her eyes widened. "You needn't answer now, of course.

She nodded, unable to speak for a few moments. "I will speak with my people," was all she said as she rose to do as she had spoken. He watched her gather the elders of her people. He rose from his chair and left for his chambers.

Hours passed. Caranthir made his way back to the same room the feast had been in, now dark with night, and empty. He picked up some of the leftover food and sat at the table. His Elvin ears heard the soft pattering of footsteps, and turned to see Haleth approaching him, carrying a lamp, which she set on the table.

He stood and made ready to greet her, but she held her hand up to stop him. He saw that she was nervous, and knew her answer before she spoke it. "My people grow weary of this place, my lord," she said softly. "I am truly thankful for your generous offer," she said hurriedly. "However, my mind is now set, lord, to leave the shadow of the mountain, and go west, wither others of our kin have gone." She reached her hand to touch his face, but decided against it halfway to it. Quickly withdrawing her hand, she curtsied, and turned to depart. Over her shoulder she murmured, "We depart in the morning," and turned the corner to the hallway. Caranthir watched her walk away, not knowing whether he was full of sadness or anger.

Morning came, and Caranthir was out and about, seeing that the Haladin had whatever they needed. When all were ready to depart, he met with Haleth one last time. They embraced and shook hands. She turn her dark eyes on his face and whispered, "I am sorry to leave, and yet not. It seems that fate would have us go elsewhere." She smiled.

He nodded, his Elvin face full of wisdom. "Yes. Fate, it seems, has other plans." He lead her to her horse, and clasped her hand as she mounted. He brought it to his lips, kissing her hand gently.

"Namarië," she murmured as she spurred her horse.

"And you," he replied.


End file.
